An Innocent Boy, a Lost girl, And Worried Parents In a Messed Up World
by Vanellaaaa
Summary: You would think that taking in an animal so small and hurt would be nothing to worry about. Really, what could happen that would affect you in so many ways? Well, apparently, it's more than you'd think. Friends gained, trust lost, and then repressed memories that should of been kept locked up. (Vampire!AU)
1. A Seemingly Innocent Prologue

His fingers slowly run up and down the side of the spine of his bass. Its cool and sleek, and there's a small comfort he gets whenever he holds it. Mindlessly, he goes to pluck one of the strings. It hits a low note and vibrates through the instrument and fills the lone house.

The ball of white fur which is his cat curls up besides him. It's often he sees her even though she comes and goes as she pleases and sometimes won't return for weeks. But, he won't restrain his pet from doing as it wants. Never would he do that.

"Hey Schwabs." Marshall murmurs. He puts the bass to the side and brings the cat into his lap, careful not to disturb her much. The rough pad of his thumb slowly caresses the top of her head. A few purrs erupt from the zombie cat and she pushes into the rest of his hand. His lips curl into a soft smile. "Easy girl, don't get impatient." he says with an airy chuckle. Leaning back into the lawn chair, he closes his eyes, letting out a sigh that mixes in with the humid air of the summer night.

But, of course, not everything is able to last forever, whether it be good or bad. Even the most peaceful moments have to end, no matter how much you don't want it to. There's always a new beginning, even if it starts off with the slightest realization and is seemingly unimportant when taken in scale of everything else.

His stomach gives off a gurgled grumble. Or maybe that's the sound of thunder clapping faintly in the distance. Looking up, he sees a storm brewing on the horizon, quickly approaching him. The stars become dimmer as dark clouds makes a hazy cover over them, engulfing the moon as well. Then again, his stomach does ache with an uncomfortable emptiness. Either way, he knows he should be getting inside.

Marshall Lee stands up, his cat cradled in one of his arms. Her tail flicks back and forth leisurely, tickling his skin. He walks to the side of the boat and sits on the edge, grabbing it with his free hand. He then lets his body drop, leaving him to support himself by one arm. He swings himself back and forth towards a ladder. "One, two…" he mumbles to himself before jumping, grabbing onto one of the ladder's steps. He puts his two feet onto the ladder and hauls himself up until he reaches an open window. Letting his cat in first, he climbs through the opening and finally shuts the window with an awfully loud_ SLAM!_ He then saunters to another ladder and climbs down, being led directly to the kitchen. His cat follows him, landing on the wooden floor with a dull _thump_.

Already he can hear the _thuds_ of knives hitting the roof, sometimes impaling the thick wood, other times landing on the back of the handle and sliding off the house harmlessly - or maybe not so harmlessly, you never know what poor innocent soul would be caught in one of the deadly storms - and landing on the grass below. Why could they never have normal storms? No, it always had to be wild blizzards or nonsensical storms of furniture - how did that even work, seriously - or like in this case, the rapid fire of knives from the skies. Never could it simply be a light rain.

But that wouldn't be nearly as exciting, would it?

"Anything you want, girl?" he asks in a gentle voice. The cat only mews and walks over to the fridge, pawing at it, only to trace over scratches from many times before. "I'm gonna take that as a yes." He opens the refrigerator door and pulls out a half-eaten can of tuna. "There you go." he says as he carefully puts the tuna in a red bowl labeled, _'Schwabelle'_, making sure to be wary of the sharp edges of the can. Too many times has he cut himself that way, deep too. The scars on his fingers prove it. Or are those from the times he's play his bass too long? Both. Let's go with both.

Marshall Lee stood up straight as he continued to go through the fridge, eventually pulling out an apple. It could hold him off as he rummaged through the rest of the refrigerator and cabinets in search of something to cook. Then again, he was an awfully lousy cook. Ironic, how his father was such a great baker.

He closed the refrigerator door and took an obnoxiously loud bite out of the red fruit. "C'mon Schwabs, let's go see if … ." The human trailed off mid-sentence, noticing a small figure out of the corner of his eye. Right outside on the window sill was a tiny bat, its fur matted with mud and blood, making it look miskept. It shook, terrified of the storm outside. He put his apple down on the counter. "BMO can wait for now." he mumbled to himself. He walked over to the window and opened it. "Hey 'lil guy … ." Marshall cautiously and slowly reached out, just in case the bat tried to attack. You never really can know how all animals will react. But, the bat scurried over to his hand, allowing him to gently cup it. "There we go." He put his other hand on the back of it, stroking its fur in the most relaxing manner he could. Raising his leg, he awkwardly pushed the window down with the heel of his foot just so he wouldn't let go of the bat. "Let's go give you a bath. And…did you get cut up? Crap, alright, so you did… ." He continues to go on, speaking in a soothing voice to the wounded bat. Maybe he can keep it, give it a name, make it his second pet. That'd be nice, so long as Schwabelle made sure to, let's say, not play too rough. Yeah, that seems like a good idea.

Then again, not everything is as it seems. There's always something else to make everything so much more complicated. Secrets and lies and stories to be told would always make something so seemingly innocent turn into something that should of never been uncovered.

But, for the moment, all he's doing is a seemingly innocent act. Just a seemingly innocent boy, tending to a seemingly innocent bat, in the most seemingly innocent of ways. And maybe, this seemingly innocent situation is not just seemingly, but actually innocent. There's always that possibility, right? Right?

But, really, who are we kidding?


	2. Part One of Chapter One : Surprises Suck

_A small boy trudges through the forest, coughing heavily. He can't be any older than three, maybe even four years old. Thick saliva and mucus hangs from his chin, which doesn't do much to make him look any better. His figure is unnaturally thin, and bruises and cuts and gnarly gashes cover it. His lips are chapped and his body shakes relentlessly. Fear and paranoia plagues him, eating him from the inside out, and it only gets worse with every step he takes. Yet, he continues walking. Why? He doesn't exactly know for sure. All he knows is that there's a dim light shining his path, and as he forces himself to go on, it gets brighter, and the pain becomes number. That's all he needs - for his suffering to end._

Marshall walked down the hallway, emitting creaks from the wooden floor. He looked down at the frightened animal with tender eyes, holding it with an equally caring touch. His cat trotted at his heels, following him all the way upstairs to the bathroom.

The teenager set the nearly passed out bat on the edge of the sink. A mirror reflects his image, which isn't a surprise to him. Good, he hasn't lost enough sense to the point where he'll freak at his own reflection. He cracks a smile, remembering how his father would sometimes lecture him at times on how he should study more often, or else he may just forget everything. Of course, it was just a playful over-exaggeration, and soon his father's expectations subsided, but still, it was a fun little thing he liked to remember. They had quite the good relationship.

He began to rummage through the cabinet, pulling out bandages and rolls of gauze and disinfectants and so on. He tended to get himself hurt quite often, so he always made the priority of being stocked up on medical supplies for his well being. You never know what could possibly happen.

Marshall then grabbed a towel from the rack and dampened it with cold water. He put his hand on the small bat, seeing if it'd flinch at his touch. It barely moved. Letting out a small sigh, he got to work, cleaning at its wounds and fur, eventually having to wring out the towel and dampen it again to wash out the blood. "We're gonna get you patched up and fed and all that good stuff soon." he mumbled, more to himself than the bat. He doubted it could understand what he said anyway.

He continued to clean the creature until it was time to apply the disinfectant and gauze. He dreaded this; the last time Schwabelle had gotten hurt, she'd hiss and scratch at him if he even try to apply the disinfectant. But, much to his surprise, it only flinched when he put the stinging substance on its cuts. He wasn't going to complain though. Soon, it was all cleaned up, and all that was left to put the gauze. With a few quick wraps, it was around its body. Its paws, feet, face, ears, wings, and a few other areas were still left exposed. Tufts of fur stuck out from in between the wraps. "There, that wasn't so bad. If only Schwabelle was just as calm as you." he whispered over to it. Unless he was seeing things, he could of sworn the little bat … smiled.

He smiled back either way it turned out to be.

He picked up the weak animal and cradled it in his hands. He made his way back down to the kitchen and swung open the fridge once he got there. "So … what do bats eat again?" He began to ponder over that. Didn't different bats eat different things? Maybe it was a fruit bat, he hoped; he was **not**going out in this weather in search for food. He looked down at that bat. Its ears drooped and it looked so tired.

Okay, maybe he would, but Glob dammit, he wasn't going to like it.

He reached into the fridge and pulled out a banana. He unpeeled and then set it down onto the counter along with the bat. When it didn't begin eating, he prodded gently at it with his finger right behind the ear. "C'mon, just eat." He tore off the top of the banana, squishing it slightly in the process, and put it to the animal's mouth. The bat opened its eyes, its ear flicking. It didn't eat.

Marshall sighed. He put the food to the side and wiped away carefully at the bat's mouth. "Let's try something else." He went back into the fridge and took out his last apple. Once again he put it to the bat's mouth. Just as before, it opened its eyes, flicked its ears, and finally began to eat.

Well, eat wasn't the right word. For this situation, viciously biting into it as if it were your worst enemy would be a better way to describe it. But, the strangest thing was that with one bite, the animal was full, and all color was drained from the fruit.

Now, he wasn't sure if to be amused or terrified or just simply weirded out for a moment only to shrug it off with a slightly awkward laugh and then go about the rest of his night without a single thought of it.

He went with the latter, seeing how even if it was strange, anything would be the norm of the land he lived it. Even the normal, which would then be considered strange in the type of land he inhabited, would then become the norm. It was just the way things was. Anything went without a single question.

"You still hungry, girl?" he asked, running his finger around one of the bat's ears, eliciting a purr from it. But, it didn't show any indication of still being hungry. So, he simply smiled and picked the bat up, making sure to hold it close to his chest. Marshall walked out of the kitchen and pulled himself up the ladder with his one arm. Once on the second floor he walked down the hallway and made his way out of the main body of the tree house, going over a bridge and into his little quarters which was his bedroom.

Scattered all over the room were multiple pens that had long ran out of ink and pencils too short to write with. Multiple trash bins were filled to the brim with crumpled up pieces of paper, some filled out, others almost completely blank save for a word or two. A shabby recorder was left out on his writing desk, and besides it was what he called his Final Notebook. Every song that he decided was to his liking was copied neatly into the leather cover journal, along with a music sheet at the end of each section. To the other side of the room a drawer was placed, filled with little trinkets his father would give him throughout the years, all of which he treasured. Even if his father could be considered a bit of a 'pansy' and 'uptight', he still was all what Marshall could ask for as a guardian. He knew what was best, and as the human entered his early adulthood years or late teenage years, he recognized that. He was stubborn and narrow minded and thick headed at times, but he definitely was not a complete idiot.

Okay, sometimes he was. But, the point still stands.

Marshall Lee's bed was covered with fine fabrics and thick furs, and besides him was his dresser. He wasn't very neat, so some of the drawers of his dresser were left open, clothes hanging out. He'd always say one day he'd organize the room, but that day never came.

On his dresser were weapons and maps piled up from across the land, some being he doesn't know how many centuries old. Some of the languages the scrolls and maps were written out in he couldn't even recognize of something from before the Mushroom War. He'd take them to his father, but, alas, there'd be no luck, not even then. One day, one day he'd figure them out. But, like with his bedroom situation, it seemed like that'd day would never come.

Without a thought, Marshall swept his hand across the top of his dresser, pushing weapons off with a loud clatter. "There we go." He grabbed one of the thick furs from his bed and laid it out, only to cover it with one of the silk sheets he was gifted with. After setting the bat down, he wrapped it in another fur, making sure it was cozy and comfortable. "Night, girl." And, with that, the human simply climbed into his bed and dozed off, just like that.

And so, it seemed like everything was easy. He'd get up in the morning, tend to the bat, get dressed, and would hang around his home, keeping an eye on the animal.

Only problem was, he wouldn't wake up that morning.


End file.
